Going Home
by deztroyer
Summary: What if Castiel succeeded in closing the gates to Heaven? What if Sam died closing the gates to Hell, too? Where would that leave Dean? My first Supernatural fic, I hope you guys enjoy!


"Talk to me. Are you sure about this?" Dean asks as he takes a swig of beer, not quite looking at Cas. "I mean, it's one thing, me and Sammy slamming the gates to the pit, but you-you…" Dean finally looked at Cas, who seemed to be taking interest in the bar counter. "You're boarding up Heaven. And you're locking the door behind you."

Of course Dean knew that what Cas was doing was probably the best for everyone. And as much as Dean had "saving people, hunting things," drilled into his head for as long as he could remember, Sam had always been the exception to that rule. And now, Cas, too. Before, Dean thought that it was just because he considered the angel as part of the family, a second (or third?) brother, but now...now that he was faced with the possibility of never seeming him again…

"Yeah. I know." Castiel murmurs, bringing the glass bottle to his lips. Dean couldn't help but watch how his full, pink lips wrapped around the bottle as he took a drink. And it wasn't the first (and definitely not the last) time he imagined how those lips would feel against his own…

"You did a lot of damage up there, man. You think that they're just gonna let that slide?" Dean asked.

"Do you mean...do I think they'll kill me?" The angel replied, sounding hollow. "Yeah. They might." Castiel looked at him then, his bright blue eyes shining with grace, but looking distraught. They were so close. All Dean had to do was lean in, just a few more inches.

 _Last chance,_ a small part of him thought.

"So this is it." _Better late than never_ "ET goes home."

He felt Castiel watching him as Dean felt nervousness creep throughout his body.

"Cas, before things go to Hell, I've got something to say." His stomach clenched as he was getting ready to tell him- _finally_ tell him.

Only to be interrupted by the chime of the bar doors opening.

 _I'll tell him after this,_ Dean thought as they watched a woman with reddish hair haul in boxes of beer.

He never did.

 **30 years later…**

Dean Winchester always imagined he would go down swinging. Gun in his hand, blood on his clothes, with his brother by his side. But never in a million years did he imagine that he would be able to leave that life behind, even with both the gates of Heaven and Hell closed. Never did he ever think that there _would_ be a life without Sam. Without Bobby. Without Cas.

Never in a million years did he imagine he would go down like this.

Grey hair, wrinkles around his eyes, tubes in his nose. Dying from a _heart attack._

Despite the situation, Dean couldn't help but laugh to himself. (Not literally. His body was kind of busy, well, dying). He lay in the uncomfortable hospital bed, looking around at the grey walls. Hell, if this had happened 30 or so years ago, Dean would be doing his damnedest to fight. Do whatever he could to stay, while fully knowing Sam would be running around trying to find some way to heal his older brother.

But not anymore.

There weren't any flowers or balloons on the windowsill like other hospital rooms. There wasn't a little brother sitting on the hard recliner next to him. There wasn't a grumpy old drunk in a baseball cap snoring on the couch, or an angel in a trenchcoat watching silently from the corner.

Dean closed his eyes, remembering his family like he has for the past 30 years. He could almost smell the whiskey and gunpowder, could almost hear Sam's fingers tapping away on his laptop. Could almost hear Castiel's deep voice saying-

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's eyes shot open, and son of a bitch, there he was. Same old dirty trenchcoat, mess of dark brown hair, and bright blue, curious eyes. Beside him, the heart monitor was going haywire.

"Cas?"

Castiel gave him a dorky smile, something Dean missed so much more than he'd like to admit. For 30 years he was alone, in turmoil, constantly playing out their last day in his head. Regretting never telling him how he felt. How he feels.

And now that he's (maybe) here, standing in front of him like he always used to, and Dean was right back to where he was before.

"How...how is this possible? How are you here?" Dean asked, feeling almost embarrassed at how fraile his voice sounded. Castiel hasn't aged a day, and Dean...well, Dean was _human_ , after all.

The angels smile turned sad, then. "Dean...you're dying. I've come to take you to your heaven."

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He knew he was dying, of course, but some confirmation was oddly...comforting.

"Heaven. Heaven? Wait. I thought that was a reaper's job, why are you taking me?" The former hunter asked.

"A reaper was to escort you, however...I insisted I do it myself." Cas told him. Dean's eyebrows shot up, "wow. And they actually let you do it? Huh. Is it just me, or has security becoming less strict between the God Squad?" Dean flashed his infamous grin; for a brief moment, Castiel looked away.

Wait...was Cas... _blushing? Can angels blush?_ Dean thought to himself.

"Perhaps the gates closing may have helped with that, however...They didn't see it as a big deal seeing as, well…" Castiel hesitated, looking nervous. _Can angels get nervous, too?_

"Well come on Cas, spit it out!"

"...seeing as you and I share one."

Dean visibly froze, backtracking their conversation. And then he backtracked it a second time, just to be sure.

And then he remembered something Ash told him and Sam, what seemed like a million years ago.

" _So everyone gets a little slice of Heaven?" Dean asked._

" _Pretty much-some people share, special cases, whatnot." Ash replied._

" _What do you mean 'special'?"_

" _Oh, you know. Like...soulmates."_

"Wait...if we share a heaven...does that mean we're...soulmates?" Dean asked carefully. The angel gave him a small smile, confirming this before he even said anything.

"That is, of course...if you'll have me?" Castiel asked nervously. Dean smiled fondly at him, suddenly feeling young again.

"Of course I will, Cas...you're my angel." The smiles exchanged between the two burned brighter than any angels grace. Castiel ran his thumb down Dean's cheek, and slowly ( _too slowly)_ leaned down. When their lips met, Dean felt youth and adrenaline surging through him. They smiled into each other's faces, "it's about damn time," Dean mumbled as he pulled Cas in for another kiss-only to be interrupted by a sudden, ongoing _beep._

Dean could actually feel his soul detaching itself from his body, feeling frighteningly free without a body to anchor him down. Almost like he was floating away. Then he found himself looking at himself in the hospital bed, old and grey and...at peace.

Then he felt Castiel's fingers lace through his own, and he stopped floating.

"Are you ready to go home?" Castiel whispered. Dean looked down at his own body, realizing that he wasn't an old man. He looked as young as he did when Castiel and Sam left him so many years ago.

Looking down at the angel beside him, he nodded. "More ready than I've ever been."

And then Cas was holding on to him, tighter this time, and Dean was holding him too. And he felt like he was floating again, but this was different. Dying was like suddenly being cut free from an anchor. This was like being pulled towards shore.

And for once, Dean didn't look back.


End file.
